Introduction

Downtown Wichita Falls, Texas, in the mid 1940’s was a bustling metropolis for a boy of 7 just away from the farm and ranch community where he was born. My father, a cook and cowboy by trade, had just started as one of the first cooks for the Casa Manana restaurant in 1947. He moved us to an apartment on Ohio Street, right across from the Gem Theater, between 7th and 8th Streets. It’s here that we would stay for the next three years. The Gem Theater became a magic palace for a young mind. But it had to share that distinction with the rest of the magic that was Wichita Falls. I attended San Jacinto and Carrigan elementary schools, as well as Reagan Junior High, and belonged to the Boys Club on 6th Street. Please join, and share your stories and pictures through a Guest Blog, of early Wichita Falls - or your home town. Contact me at fadingshadows40@gmail.com or leave a comment. We could use old pictures of movie houses, drive-in theaters, and other nostalgic pictures related to our youths.

Thursday, October 31, 2013

For a
fun Halloween, be sure to read these two stories before going to bed tonight!
$.99 each on Kindle.

“The
Soul Stealers” by Tom Johnson. Angels have walked among mankind since the dawn
of civilization. Although we may not recognize them, or even see their
presence, they are always with us. Perhaps they whisper advice in our dreams,
or guide our governments without their knowledge, angels are moving us towards
a higher good. Some even protect us in our final day, when violent death
reaches out for our very soul - these are the Soul Sealers!

“The
Mind Master” by Tom Johnson. New York has a new hero. In a contemporary
setting, thieves knock over an art gallery, stealing famous and valuable
paintings, and at the same time hit a museum displaying a necklace once
belonging to Queen Bathsheba given to her by King Solomon, its value beyond
price. From the chaos rises a new hero, The Mind Master!

I
can’t remember if it was 1951, 1952 or ’53, but the school year around that
time, sixty years ago, brings back a flood of memories today. It was probably
my first experience of Trick-Or-Treating. But the fun of this event was that it
occurred at our school that year. The teachers and faculty of San Jacinto
joined with many of the parents to provide a safe and entertaining Halloween for
the students. I don’t remember a lot about it, though I think only the
downstairs rooms were decorated, and teachers and parents gave out candy to the
students who ran from room to room. I had never been on a Trick Or Treat
before, and it was a blast.

It
was the only time that I remember San Jacinto doing this, but there may well
have been other years. In fact, I
wouldn’t celebrate the night again until I was a teenager and living on Blond
Street several years later. I don’t know if my parents just didn’t allow it, or
kids I knew didn’t do it, but Halloween was something I didn’t do.

In
some communities today, I think some teachers have a “Trunk” party on
Halloween. They are not allowed to use the school facilities, but will set up
in town, under supervised conditions, and children are brought to the area
where they run from stand to stand, or car to car. I’ve never seen this in action, but see the
notice listed in some area newspapers.

Tom & Ginger In Costume On Drama Club Float During
Parade

As
older people, my wife and I used to enjoy answering the door and handing out
treats. For several years I wore a costume when we opened the door; the costume
consisted of alien mask and ray gun. I had a lot of fun. One group of boys
asked my wife if they could take me with them. One girl about 10 really shocked
us, though. She wasn’t expecting a creepy alien to open the door, and she
jumped back yelping a swear word. Unfortunately, my costume was a bit too scary
for the younger children, and several of them started crying when they saw me.
I decided to stop wearing the space alien suit when I answered the door, and in
more recent years we have not participated in the event, preferring instead to
keep our lights out, and have the children pass our house. As it was, I’m sure
that some of the parents weren’t happy with me scaring their children in
previous years, and avoided our house regardless.

Halloween
should be a fun time for children, but I agree with the supervised area where
feasible. There is just too much meanness in the world today for our children
to be running around alone in strange neighborhoods at night. I can’t help but
remember how much fun we had that year at San Jacinto. I guess politics,
religion, and liability put a stop to that for good, even though it was a safe
and controlled environment.

I wonder if other schools
participated in Halloween back then? Does anyone remember?

Friday, October 25, 2013

My
book signing today went poorly, but I blame the cold weather for keeping people
away, and the fact that I was put outside for the ordeal. I set up just before
9 AM, and it was in the mid thirties. By noon it began warming up, and people
came by to talk, but no one was interested in buying books. That’s okay, I did
get exposure (more ways than one), and enjoyed meeting and talking with people.
Seymour has never been much for readers. I learned that when I owned and
operated a used bookstore for thirty years. My sales continue to be from other
sources; for instance, my Kindle books are still selling better than the print
books, both in the US and overseas. Ginger only took one picture of me at the
signing, and as you can see, I’m bundled up for the cold temperatures.

By
afternoon it had warmed up enough for me to shed all the winter wear, just in
time for the newspaper owner to come by and snap my picture, after telling me
to wave at the camera. But by then it was time to pack up and close down.
Ginger and I were tired and a little disappointed that books didn’t move. Sigh.

Saturday, October 19, 2013

It’s odd how something
insignificant can force your mind to wander into the past on occasion.
Recently, while taking my wife to the hospital in Wichita Falls in preparation
for surgery, a loud voice drew my attention to a gentleman my age in a
wheelchair. He was instructing a person where to wheel him. The man’s voice,
and his features triggered something in my brain, and I was again on the San
Jacinto elementary school grounds.

Tom With The Boys
Club In The Background

Our memories of childhood often
reflect on some of the more frightening momentsof our life. Though we try to
recall the good times, like our first date, first kiss, or even that first
bicycle. At times other things are brought to mind that may not be all that
pleasant. My childhood was filled with many such unpleasant memories.

I attended San Jacinto elementary
school in Wichita Falls between 1947 and 1953; sometime around 1951, when I was
about eleven, we had a boy in school that was much taller than the rest of us.
Being bigger, he tended to be a bully, and pushed the rest of us around on the
playground. So we knew to stay out of his way. This kid always acted like he
was the Frankenstein monster, walking stiff-legged, with his arms outstretched
as if to grab one of us. He took pleasure in seeing us scatter. One day he even
stuck something that looked like bolts on both sides of his neck! He was his
own Frankenstein monster.

I had a good friend I’d known
about four years, since we moved to Wichita Falls. He was a little bit fat, and
maybe somewhat awkward, but he was my buddy. It all started at recess one day,
when something happened – I don’t know what – but suddenly the kid we called
Frankenstein jumped on my pal and was hitting him. Sometimes I do things
without thinking. I jumped on the monster!

Tom On A 1946 Nash

We had just started swinging when
the bell rang, calling an end to recess. We headed for the school building.
Frankenstein threatened, “I’ll see you after school!”

I said something like, “Good!”

Unfortunately, I had the rest of
the day to think about what this monster was going to do to me after school. It
wasn’t a good thought. He would look at me from across the classroom, and
snarl.

Time cannot be halted, however,
and eventually the bell ending the day finally sounded, and I knew it was time
for me to die. Frankenstein was going to kill me. But instead of running home
like a sane person, I stopped outside the door and waited for the inevitable. Maybe
I had a slim chance, I thought. My heavyset pal was nowhere to be seen, he
was smart and got away from school quickly. He wasn’t about to wait around for
the monster to tear me from limb to limb, and then start on him!

Well, I waited, and I waited.
Just about all of the kids had left the building, and was headed home, only a
few stragglers remained. The longer I waited the braver I got. Frankenstein
is scared of me! I thought. Well, it was worth thinking anyway. Just as I was sure the last kid had left the
building, a boy came out who remembered about the fight.

“Hey, Frankenstein is waiting for
you on the north side of the building!” he yells. “I’ll go get him!”

The north side of the
building! Of course, the San Jacinto school building was built in a square,
with four sides, four exits! While I had been waiting on the west side, the
monster was waiting for me on the north side of the building.

Thankfully, I didn’t have much
time to think about my predicament. In no time at all, Frankenstein came
running around the building anxious to dismember me. I don’t know who threw the
first punch, but we were quickly swinging meaningful headshots; we weren’t
skilled fighters, as you can imagine. But I was giving as good as I was
getting, and the monster was starting to cry. Maybe I was too. But we kept on
throwing those headshots with hard knuckles, and neither of us had gone down.

Suddenly, someone yelled, “The
principal is coming.” That ended the fight. Everyone scattered, included
Frankenstein. I raced for home also.

I don’t remember if I worried
about the monster that night, or not. But the next day school was normal.
Frankenstein didn’t approach me. In fact, he never bothered my buddy or me
again. Like all bullies, once someone stands up to them, they become less
aggressive. But it wasn’t bravery on my part believe me. I had merely acted
instinctively, without thinking. If I had had a second to stop and think, I
would never have jumped on the Frankenstein monster that day!

There is something of an addendum
to this story. In 5th Grade art class one day, our teacher gave us
an afternoon assignment. Each of us was to draw a self-portrait of what we
wanted to be as an adult. After we finished, she picked up the drawings and
glanced through them, and then selected mine and Frankenstein’s to hold up in
front of the class. I had drawn a sheriff with a badge on his chest, and
Frankenstein had drawn jail bars with him looking out. What she said kind of
chilled me. She said, “What you have seen in these drawing is what you will
become.”

I didn’t become a sheriff, though
I did become a cop for twenty years. I wonder if Frankenstein ended up behind
bars? I don’t remember his name, except for what we called him, nor did I ever
see him again after leaving San Jacinto school. There were other fights, some
even more violent than the day I fought Frankenstein, but few that I remember
as vividly.

Was the old man in the wheelchair
my Frankenstein monster? I don’t know. I would have felt foolish going up and
asking him. From the wheelchair, he posed no threat today, if he was. I’m sure he
would have had many fights over the years, so our little encounter at age
eleven would not have been something he was likely to recall. I merely watched
him a while and remembered other times in my childhood with fonder memories.

Saturday, October 12, 2013

Our
drive to Sheppard AFB is always the same. Coming in from out of town, we take
Seymour Road to Beverly, then turn towards the base and cross the Wichita
River. I will glance at the ugly brown water running between the banks, and
marvel at how uninviting and dangerous it looks today. We've even seen homeless
people living under the bridge on occasion. But it wasn't like this in my
youth.

From let to right, Richard, Jerry Odom, and Tom

There
was a time when the muddy river beckoned to an eleven-year old boy and his
companions. On weekends, my San Jacinto classmate, Jerry Odom would drag me
from my house to explore the jungle growth of the mighty Wichita; to us it was
a great waterway with pirates and beasts to be conquered. Jerry would bring his
BB or pellet gun, and I would carry my homemade bow and arrows. Lizards were
Komodo Dragons, and snakes became giant anacondas fifty-feet long. Or we might
be outlaws of Sherwood Forest. Our imaginations knew no bounds.

Jerry
always had plenty of BBs and pellets, and I made arrows from the branches of
trees, so we never ran out of ammunition to battle our imaginary enemies. Once,
Jerry let me shoot his pellet gun. I spotted an insect on a rock, took careful
aim, and pressed the trigger. No, I didn't shoot my eye out, but the pellet hit
the rock and bounced back - hard - striking me square in the forehead and
knocking me flat of my back. It was my first lesson with firearms!

While
exploring the margin of the river one day, we came upon a small tributary that
branched from the main stream. It didn't appear to be more than a foot deep, so
Jerry leaped over the gap easily. Anything that Jerry could do so could I, so I
jumped right behind him. I landed in the water just inches from the bank. To
our surprise, the mud below the surface wasn't solid and I began sinking
rapidly. I had landed in quicksand! Suddenly, our imaginary adventure turned
into a real threat. The mud was sucking me down fast, and it took all of
Jerry's strength to pull me from the muck. He succeeded.

Tom on Burnett Street

I
got back to my house with Jerry's help. We only lived a block from the river on
Burnett Street, between 3rd and 4th Streets, but the mud
was caked on my clothes, and it was difficult to walk. At the door, my mother
saw all that crud, and told me to wash it off with the hose outside, then come
inside and change to some dry pants and shirt. When we did get inside finally,
and I told my mother what had happened, she just smiled and told us to stay out
of the mud in the future. She never did believe the story about the quicksand.
Perhaps it was easier for mothers not to worry about their children, if they
didn't have to think about dangerous quicksand and venomous snakes. As it was,
I didn't learn to swim until Havens Park at age fifteen, long after the days of
playing on the bank of the Wichita River.

My
mother had a pair of pet turtles she named Tom & Jerry because of our close
friendship. We were Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn playing on the mighty
Mississippi River. We eventually moved away from the area, and I left San
Jacinto School and entered Carrigan School for the 7th grade, losing
all contact with Jerry Odom. Time and separation often erases memories of
childhood pals. Perhaps I would have forgotten Jerry long ago, if it hadn't
been for that day he pulled me out of the quicksand. But every time we cross
that muddy old brown river, I can still see us playing on the banks below,
repelling hordes of pirates with only BB guns and homemade bow and arrows!

I
may be older and wiser now, but deep in my subconscious is also a yearn for
those simpler times, when youth knew no fear and two boys could find excitement
and adventure in a make-believe world while our mothers laughed at our imagined
dangers.

I
hope Jerry also remembers.

Addemdum:
I did locate Jerry in a sense. When his younger brother (was it Richard?) passed
away, I discovered Jerry was living in Holliday, Texas. I tried to contact him,
but evidently Jerry was in bad health and living with a relative, so there was
no listed telephone or address. Jerry also passed away not too long after his
brother, so I never reestablished contact to talk about old times.